(FORTUNE Magazine) – This is not good. Not one person in the entire country buys my story about the Buddhist monks. There's an independent counsel cruising my way, and I look like a dufus hiding behind legalisms even my staff doesn't understand. I'm in the incredible position of being in bigger ethical trouble than Bill Clinton. Bad. Very bad.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. No, no, not like this. I'm the vice president. I'm into policy stuff that makes everyone's eyes glaze over. Global warming: I love it. Particulate matter: I own it. High-tech mumbo jumbo: my native language. El Nino: I anticipated it. The other day Pat Robertson called me "that Ozone Al"--a badge of honor! But fundraising? That's not me. I did that stuff to be a team player, to prove I could do it. I'm not a crook, just a bonehead. I didn't do anything wrong. Stupid, yes. Wrong, no.

I'm a wreck. Off step. Clinton gets thrown off step and--presto!--the guy keeps going. I'm trying not to sulk, but my body is fighting me. And when I tell the truth, I have this pained look in my eyes and people don't believe a word I'm saying. I can't help it. This fall is my test. I know it. People around here always say the first primary in politics is to raise money. Well, I sure passed that. My first primary is to get out of this mess alive.

Sure, I've been involved in controversy before, but it's always been about policy. Arms control. The Contras. NATO. Clean stuff, life and death for somebody else, but not for me. This one is about me. And what I did was legal. What I did was what politicians always do. Even Gephardt knows this. Especially Gephardt. He's loving this, just loving it. He sits up there on the Hill, the House minority leader, no responsibility, nothing to do all day but plan his campaign and watch me squirm. He's running, sure as I sit here, and somehow he ends up a free man, and I'm a prisoner. He's been in the House all these years, and he's about to portray me as Mr. Politics as Usual, as Mr. Inside Washington.

This is big trouble. Process candidates like me--Mondale, Dukakis, Dole--are losers. They get crushed. I can't be one. I've got to be Mr. Big Idea. Maybe education. Maybe technology. How about technology in education? But hey, I've got some advantages here. Gephardt's bland, a Boy Scout. He's nothing but a pale imitation of me, and I do mean pale. John Kerry? He's me with a New England accent. Bob Kerrey? Me with a wild eye. Everybody's me in this race. When people say my biggest opposition is me, they have a point.

I've got work to do. I've got to defend myself. I defend the president all the time. My favorite poll is the one that shows three out of four Americans think Clinton's more likely to cheat at cards than I am. I'm terrible at defending myself. But I have to. Absolutely have to. Better now than later too. Better to stick up for myself in 1997 in Washington than to wait till 2000 in Council Bluffs. Maybe I should make fun of myself, do the Stiff Man routine even though my judgment makes me look like Gumby. Maybe I should get out of town, meet the people, show 'em I've got fight. I'm from Carthage, for gosh sake. I'm going to go out there and talk about issues, show them what I'm made of. I will. There's no controlling legal authority against it.